Inked Armour
by RoslynKing
Summary: A has always been a loner. A little on the weird side, always gives a cold shoulder. Garth has found a way into her weak spot as Garth does, and knows why she wakes screaming in the night. When Sam Winchester ties into those horrible visions, will she be able to keep it to herself? Will she be able to keep her secret from the boys? (Rated M for possible Smut in later chapters)
1. Chapter One

Chapter One

A's POV

I can smell the blood. The rusty scent assaults my nostrils and I scrunch my face uncomfortably in an effort the escape it. It doesn't work. The baby crying behind me is enough of a distraction, though. I turn around and look the scared woman in the face. Her eyes are wide as she tries to comfort her child.  
"Babies don't respond well to stress, you know. You have to be calm for your child." I step over the salt line as I speak and take the little boy from her. One smile at him is all it takes before he's giggling and cooing. She's staring at me in amazement as she touches her husband's arm.

"Do you h-have children?" She stutters as I hand him back.

I can almost feel my blood turn icy. "No."

I step out of the circle and give the family a reassuring smile. "I'll take care of this. Don't worry."

The apparition had just recently started terrorizing the small town of Great Barrington, Massachusetts. It was an anniversary that set it off. The anniversary of the ghost's death, to be exact. Upon investigation I realized why she was going after men that are married with children. She could have no children of her own. Her husband was a stern man, to put it lightly. Once he found out she couldn't bear him a child... All bets were off for her. He was abusive at first and it eventually lead to the woman's demise. She took her revenge out on the husbands in the town because she was never able to get revenge on her own.

I'm sorry for her. She's doing this because she's crazed. Because she was treated badly in her life. IT doesn't excuse the murders, though.

"You don't understand." A hoarse whisper comes from the kitchen.

I leave the front room and step into the darkness. "I know what he did, Susanna. I know how you were hurt. Hurting these men will not hurt your husband. It will not change what he did to you."

A face flashes in front of me and I take a furtive step back. Her brown hair is disheveled and the blood on her forehead is dripping. "You _don't know_." She lunges at me and I throw the chain through her graying form.

I sprint to the dining room, where I had placed the only remaining link to the cremated woman on the floor. The vintage looking apron lay there, sprinkled with salt and lighter fluid. I take out my matches and sigh. "Rest in peace."

The strike of the match lights up the dark room. She's standing in the corner, her head hanging down. "I wanted to help them."

I throw the match on the apron and watch as it ignites, burning holes in the blood stained fabric. Her form goes up with it. I purse my lips as the lights in the house flicker back on. I silently hope that she can rest now. I make my way back to the front room. "It's finished. You're safe now."

The mother clutches her child in her arms and her husband hugs both of them to his chest. I half smile, as I walk toward the door. "Don't forget to make sure the fabric burns _completely._"

I hear a short "Thank you!" As I shut the door.

How am I supposed to feel good about this when I know there are fifty more cases out there?

My hotel room isn't exactly inviting, but it's the best thing to home I have right now. I take out my key just as a car pulls into the barren parking lot. I have one hand on the revolver at my hip as I unlock the door and step inside. I shut it just as quickly and peek through the curtains. A sleek black Impala holds two men, one very tall with tousled hair and the other with a square jaw and hardened face. They're wearing cheap suits that look like they need dry cleaned. They go to a room two doors down from mine, talking to each other. You can tell by the body language that the Marine looking one is pissed about something.  
I'd never much listened to the science in things. Actually, not at all. Science suggests that when dreaming you only see the faces of people you've previously met. This was obviously false. As I look at the tall, mysterious man my insides turn. He hadn't been in any particularly good dreams.

My phone rings then and I flip it open.  
"Hey, sexy thang!"

I snort. "Hi, Garth. Just finished the case in Massachusetts. What's up?"

He lets out a slow breath. "There were a couple of guys that I know headed up that way. I told 'em I had someone on the case but they wanted to 'double check.' Guess you showed 'em, A!"

"Two guys?" I mutter. "It's not those clean cuts in the Chevy, is it?"

He chuckles. "Why yes ma'am, that'd be Sam and Dean! I'll let 'em know you already finished the job. Call me when you're ready for another case, darlin'."

"Later, Garth."

I flip my phone shut and pick up the suitcase on the bed, then flip off all the lights. I go through yet another crappy hotel room door and lock it behind me, throwing my luggage into the open window of my truck as I make my way to the main desk.

The tall one, Sam, I think, is there asking something about the local police reports. The little Indian man at the counter exaggerates the murders into butcherings. I roll my eyes and wait. The guy steps back and writes something into a pad in his hand and I step up to the desk.  
"I won't be needing the room, anymore. Thanks for the wonderful service." I place the key and a twenty dollar bill onto the worn countertop and smile. The Indian man nods at me and takes them both. I turn on my heel to go out the door, only to smack into something.

Rough hands grab my forearms and steady me.

"Hey, watch –" He cuts off mid-sentence, looking at my face intently.

"Sorry, wasn't paying attention." I walk out the door and see the other guy standing by the black Chevy. It looks like he's talking to it. I briefly hear him call it "baby" as I climb into my truck and shut the door. As I start the engine he looks up and does a double-take. He winks at me and I can see his muscles flex under his suit jacket. I scoff. What an ass.

The other guy comes up to him and says something, then they both look at me strangely. Garth has always had some odd friends, but these guys? I shut off the engine and stick my head out the window.

"There a problem, _officers?_" I put heavy sarcasm on the last word.

The tall one steps toward my truck. "Are you A?"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, according to Garth. What's it to you?"

He grins. "Well I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean. We were here to –"

I interrupt him. "To make sure the job was done? Too late." I smirk.

"Well, all the same, it's always nice to meet a fellow hunter."

I snort a little. "What hunters do _you_ know? Other than Garth, the only ones I've met are either arrogant and proud or drunk hillbillies."

Dean gives me an odd look and Sam chuckles. "Well, we know the drunks and proud men, too. It's still nice to meet someone else who's... Like us."

I glare. "You don't know anything about me."

"Dark circles under the eyes, tipping the man at the desk, sarcastic bitch?" Dean stares at me gravely. "You've lost family and because of that you lose sleep. You also have nightmares and sleep with a gun in your hand. You're either smart and know how forgery works or you come from a wealthy background and you don't take shit from anyone because you know if you get attached enough to call them family then their blood will be on your hands at the end of the day. Did I miss anything?"

I shake my head, a little shocked at how well he was able to read me. I study his face, notice his hand on his pistol and the dark circles under his eyes. He wasn't reading me; he was reading himself.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Sam's POV

I was glad when A offered to get a drink with us at the local bar and grill. It gave me more time to try and remember where I had seen her before. I wouldn't forget a face like hers. So beautiful but broken and hurt like the face of most hunters who have lost all they have. She hides behind a tough exterior. Sitting across from us now, though, she seems harmless enough.

She swirls her beer around in the bottle before taking a long drink. "Can I get a burger here? I'm starved."

I look at my brother and can almost see the lust rolling in his eyes. "A burger eating girl, huh?"

She nods her head and takes another drink. "With bacon."

If she says she likes cars, this might be it for Dean. I shake my head and take a sip from my bottle. Dean flags down a waiter and I look A over. Her big brown eyes lock on mine and we maintain eye contact for several seconds. It seems she's searching for something as well.

Dean clears his throat, startling us. She looks down at the table and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. We hadn't even heard him order.

"So, what does A stand for anyway?" Dean speaks what's on my mind.

She laughs lightly. "None of your business."

"Well if I guess it will you tell me if I'm right?"

She nods. "Fine, that's fair."

He rests his chin on his hand and puts on his thinking face. "Anastasia?"

She shakes her head.

"Amelia?"

She chuckles. "Nope."

"Anna?"

"Uhn-uh."

He pauses, trying to think of more names.

I suddenly remember where I had seen her. "Allison."

Her head snaps up and she furrows her brow. "Yes."

I'd seen her in a vision, back when I had them regularly. I clearly remember the blood dripping from her arms, tears streaking down her face. I look at her forearms now, the weird asymmetrical shirt she wears covers her right arm with a long sleeve, but the faint scars on her left are clearly visible. She follows my gaze and folds her hands on her lap, under the table.

"How'd you know that, Sammy?" Dean pulls me out of my thoughts.

"Lucky guess." I mumble, chugging the remainder of my beer. "Anybody want any drinks from the bar?"

"Long Island Iced Tea." Allison says, finishing her beer as well.

I step up to the bar and the bartender smiles at me. "What'll it be, darling?" She asks.

"A Long Island Iced Tea, two beers, and six shots of Jack."

She nods. "We'll bring it right over."

I head back to the table and see Dean leaning in toward Allison, probably giving her his dark brooding eyes. I call them his 'bedroom eyes' since all he uses them for is to bed women. Whatever he's saying to her doesn't seem to be working.

I take my seat at the table and they look at me. Dean's eyes are pleading. He knows he isn't doing well.

"So, Allison. What's with the weird shirt?" I change the subject.

She smirks. "Do you have a problem with my sense of fashion?"

"I think it's awesome." Dean murmurs. _Brown noser._

"It just can't be comfortable hunting attire."

Her eyes sparkle. "Not getting dirty is part of the challenge."

Dean mutters something under his breath that I don't quite catch, but it sounds something along the lines of "make you dirty." I kick his leg under the table and he glares out of the corner of his eye.

"How'd you meet Garth?" I ask, changing the topic yet again.

She smiles, a genuine smile that touches her eyes and brightens her face. "My mother... She was very different from people like us. She knew about monsters and yet she condoned the behavior. She would always say, 'It's normal to them, as normal as our everyday habits.' I never understood how someone could be so okay with those things killing people. They were all around us." She pauses, taking in our reactions. "One night, while I was walking home from the library, a man attacked me. I thought it was one of those things my mother was so fond of. Turns out it was a hunter. He was after my mother and had decided to use me as bait." She could obviously tell we were shocked.

"The man was Garth's father. Garth was around my age at the time. He begged and pleaded for him not to hurt me, to let me go. He didn't listen and that same night he killed my mother. Garth could tell I was different, though, and they took me in. His father raised me alongside his own child. Eventually he let his guard down and started treating me like his own child; violence and all. When we were teenagers, we couldn't take it anymore, so we ran. Last I heard, the man was behind bars for public intoxication and I'm pretty sure for punching a police officer in the face. Neither of us have spoken to him since before we left."

"That is a very intense back story." Dean whispers, taking a swing of his beer.

The waitress brings our drinks and Allison smiles as she walks away. "What can I say? I'm all kinds of special."


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

A's POV

I'll admit it was a bold move talking about my mother like that. I suppose alcohol doesn't make me give away the juicy details. However, Long Island Iced Tea will make me do almost _anything_.

I take a drink of my tea, tossing the little red umbrella into the growing pile I had on the table. Dean looks at me wide-eyed.

"You can sure put 'em down, A." He says in a surprised tone.

I giggle. "Didn't you hear anything I said about my childhood? If you can't repress it, drink it away." I raise my glass before taking in another long drink.

Dean's eyebrow goes up and he mutters, "I guess that's one way to look at it."

"Listen, Dean." The room around me spins a little. Sam puts his hand on my shoulder.

"Maybe you've had enough, Allison. Certainly too much to drive."

"Oh _no_!" I moan.

The boys look at me with curious eyes as I put my head in my hands.

"I told the manager that I didn't need my room anymore! Looks like I'm sleepin' in my truck tonight, boys! Let's hope there isn't anything _scary_ in these parts." I giggle again, sipping my tea and honestly feeling pretty good about myself.

"You don't have to do that, Allison. You can sleep in my bed. I'll take the recliner." Sam smiled softly at me before looking down at the table and then taking a shot of Jack.

"Really, Sammy, you'd do that? That's so sweet!" I grab a full shot glass sitting in front of him and tip an invisible hat on my head before downing it.

Dean smiles like a child that's been given a new bicycle. "Awesome."

At some point we must have left the bar. We pull into the nearly empty hotel parking lot quietly. My head is resting on something hard, maybe a car window or door. I squint my eyes to see better, giving up when I realize it isn't working. Why did I have so much to drink?

_You're an alcoholic._ I whisper internally. I sigh, knowing there is some truth to the words.

My head moves, not by my doing. I realize we've stopped and they must have thought I was asleep. Am I asleep? Either way, I'm moving.

"I can carry her, dude." Someone says in a hushed tone.

"Dean, stop trying to get in her pants. She's a hunter and obviously not interested." Sam is close. His voice is kind of muffled. He's carrying me.

The rocking motion of his walk makes my stomach turn. I wait until I hear the door open and close before I more. I twist in his grasp, flipping out of his arms and landing quietly on my feet. Stumbling my way to the bathroom and shutting the door, I lean over the toilet and wait for the vomit to make it's way up. I lay my head on my hand, room spinning around me, and drool into the porcelain bowl.

_God, I'm attractive._ I think sarcastically.

There's a knock at the door. "A, are you alright in there?" Dean asks softly.

"Mmhmm, I'll be out in a second." The knot in my stomach loosens, allowing me to stand and look at myself in the mirror. Hair is coming loose from my up-do, my eyes are dark and my clothes are ruffled. _I'm a hot fucking mess._

Hot. I wipe my hand across my forehead, catching a few drops of sweat. Literally, _hot_. I fan myself with my hand.

"Sam brought in your suitcase from your truck. You really shouldn't leave the window down like that. Do you need your toothbrush or something?"

"Can you hand me my robe, please?" I murmur, stripping off my jean shorts and my skin tight top. Looking myself over in the mirror, I realize I can't leave my mark so exposed. I reach into the pocket of my shorts, pulling out a thick-banded bracelet and tightening it onto my right wrist.

_They can't see._

Another knock on the door. "Here you go."

I crack it open and a rough hand slides inside, clutching white silk. I take my robe and shut the door back, sliding it on over my black bra and panties. Tying it tightly, I stumble out of the bathroom and right into Dean's chest.

"Weren't trying to spy on me, were you?" I jokingly accuse as he grabs my arms to steady me.

He scoffs. "I wasn't s-spying."

I giggle, pulling out of his grasp and plopping down onto the chair. Sam perches on the edge of his bed, nearest to the bathroom. My suitcase is on the floor at the foot of it.

"When would you like to sleep?" He questions.

"Here's f-fine." I mumble, yawning and curling into the chair.

I hear talking, maybe to me, but my mind is slowly drifting. I feel warm all over and smile sweetly. "Thanks, boys." My words are so slurred I'm not sure they understand. For the first time in a long time I feel safe as I drift to sleep.

"_S-Sam?" I stutter quietly, crawling through pieces of broken metal and splinters of glass to get to the unmoving body on the other side of the warehouse. My broken leg is heavy behind me. I press on, determined to make it over to him._

"_Sam!" I shout, louder, clearer._

_No movement._

_I whimper, trying to crawl faster. I reach him in several seconds, pulling myself up to look at him. The first thing I notice is his open shirt, the gauging and the blood. Then I notice his face. His jaw slack, his forehead bleeding, his eyes dull and lifeless._

_A high-pitched scream echoes off the walls. I'm surprised to realize it's mine. Sobs escape my throat as tears pour down my face. I pull at his arms, his lips, kissing his cheek._

"_Sam! Sam please, no, no, NO!"_

_Footsteps approach. I turn around and see a pair of smiling yellow eyes._

_They sneer at me. "You should have told him sooner, darling."_

I wake up with a jolt, not quite to the point of screaming yet. The rooms turns, the ceiling moving closer to the wall. _Gotta love that alcohol._

Whatever I'm laying on is very uncomfortable so I stretch out my legs and stumble to the bathroom to pee. It's dark, I almost run into the wall but catch myself on the door frame. I try to look through my hazy memory for how I got drunk and still managed to come back to my hotel room. _When did I even drink? _

I use the bathroom dizzily, then make my way back to the room. I spot my suitcase on the floor and decided to slip off my robe, tossing it on top of the luggage. The room spins again as I climb into my bed. _Maybe I'll remember in the morning..._ I yawn. I'm grateful that unconsciousness seems to envelope me quickly this time. Briefly, before I slip under, I think I hear snoring.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Sam's POV

I yawn groggily, rolling over in bed. I can see the light behind my eyelids and have no intentions of getting up yet. I shouldn't have drank so much whiskey. Dean's snoring makes me cringe. No way I'll be getting back to sleep now.

I groan and roll to my back, opening my eyes and squinting at the ceiling, trying to adjust to the light. A soft hand runs across my chest, shortly accompanied by a head on my shoulder and a tiny "Mmm..." I look down, shocked to see A curling into my right side. Didn't she fall asleep in the recliner? I remember laying it back for her.

I glance over at the empty laid out chair. She must have forgotten that she was here. _She did drink more than I'd imagine she can handle._ I look back at her, the soft expression on her face. When she's asleep she doesn't look so broken and cold. I run my free hand down the silky skin of her arm.

That's when I notice the thick black band clenched onto her wrist. It's skin-tight. I reach down and run my fingers across it, finding the clasp.

Before I can comprehend what's happening, I'm flipped over onto my stomach, my left arm pinned behind me, and a tiny girl is perched on my back.

"Don't touch that." She whispers, climbing off my back and sitting up in the bed.

I turn to a sitting position. "What is it, Allison?"

She shakes her head looking down at her hands before meeting my eyes with a dark look. "It's nothing."

It's silent for a moment and then she asks, "We didn't... Did we?"

My eyes widen. "N-no! You fell asleep in the chair last night and must have forgotten where you were or something. I woke up and you were..." I picture her little hand resting on my chest, her sweet face dreaming so peacefully. "You cuddled me."

Her eyes are accusing. "No _way_ I cuddled you. I don't cuddle."

I smile. "You do now."

My eyes snap down. For the first time I realize she's not wearing anything over her underwear. Her black lace bra contrasts nicely with her ivory skin. I look down at the bed.

"Where's your robe, Allison?"

She looks down at herself. "What? Never seen boobs before, Sammy?" She stands up and starts rummaging through her suitcase.

Dean stirs in his bed. "I heard boobs." He mumbles gruffly, sitting up and blinking slowly.

"Sam was asking why I'm not wearing clothes. I just wondered why he's complaining." She smiles at me devilishly.

"Not wearing clothes?" Dean opens his eyes wider, letting them adjust, before he smiles. "I'm not complaining."

She puts her hand on her hip. "Why thanks, Dean! See? It's not hard to be _honest_ Sammy."

"Sometimes the truth can hurt, Allison." I look at her left arm, my eyes tracing the faint rows of scars. She's quick to take notice and grimaces at me.

"I suppose we all have secrets." She takes her suitcase into the bathroom and shuts the door. I hear the faint click of a lock and lay back in my bed.

"What the hell did I miss?" Dean questions.

I sigh. "I woke up with her head on my chest."

"You didn't. You dog!"

I love how everyone assumes... "No, Dean, I didn't have sex with her."

His eyebrows come together. "Why not?"

"Maybe I happen to be more of a gentleman than taking advantage of a drunk girl."

He shakes his head. "Whatever you say, man."

After we're all ready and it's time to say goodbye I find myself longing for her presence even more.

"Allison," I start, grinning at her. "Would you like to join us?"

Her eyes widen. "I work alone."

Dean chuckles. "Well you don't drink alone! C'mon, we're not so bad!"

A tiny smile touches her lips. "I guess not. Well, alright. But just to see how it goes first! Nothing for certain."

I feel strangely relieved.

"You taking your truck or riding with Baby?" Dean asks her.

"Who's Baby?" er eyebrow goes up.

I smile. "Baby is Dean's Impala."

She looks at him and grins. "I can ride with Baby."


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

A's POV

As we're stopped at a gas station I realize that I miss the obnoxious rumble of my truck. Sam comes out of the tiny store carrying a few bags.

"I got you something to drink." He says as he nears me. I watch him toss the bags into the back seat.

"Where's Dean?" I wonder.

He chuckles. "Paying for gas and... Pie."

Sam's face turns pained. He grunts, doubling over and grasping at the hood of the car. He sounds like he's gasping for air.

I slide over the hood to get over to him. "Sam? Sam, answer me!"

I hear footsteps behind me. "What are you guys doing to Baby?" As Dean gets closer I hear something hit the ground.

"Sammy?" He says in a strained voice.

"He just started gasping and..." I trail off, rubbing my hand over his back while he groans in pain. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Dean's features warp, an icy look in his eyes. "I thought this had stopped."

"What, Dean? That what had stopped?" I demand.

"Allison..." Sam's body tenses before relaxing again. He pants out a few breaths.

I hesitate, reaching out my hand to touch his arm. "Sam?"

He gives me a very angry look before his eyelids flutter. He falls toward the ground in what seems like slow motion. I hear a tiny scream pierce the air and I reach out, holding on to him before he can hit. I'm surprised to find that I had screamed. It's too late when I realize that I'm holding him in my arms bridal style until I hear the metallic click of a gun ready to shoot.

"What are you?" Dean says in a gruff voice.

I slide Sam through the open door onto the backseat.

"Dean, I can explain."

His finger inches closer to the trigger. "You sure as Hell better start talking."

I raise my hands up by my head. "Dean if I wanted to hurt you or Sam don't you think I would have already?"

"What _are you_? Demon? Vampire? Werewolf? Kitsune? Shapeshifter? _What_?"

I feel a small tear fall from my eye. "I would never hurt you." I whisper as I remove the tight band from my right wrist.

His eyes follow my movements. His face goes blank for a moment. "You're one of _them_." He mumbles, staring at the symbol branded into my arm. "You've killed."

"No, Dean, I've never killed a human. I didn't kill my father."

His gun lowers, only a little. "You had to. Isn't that part of your process?"

I shake my head. "Not when you know what you're doing. Not when you despise the way your 'family' lives. I told you my mother had a soft spot for monsters, didn't I? Because she _was_ one. That's why Garth's father went after her. Garth had to beg and plead for him to spare my life. I will forever be grateful to him."

His face softens. "Did you know Lydia?"

I feel a twinge of fear, a cold chill runs down my spine. "Yes."

He looks into my eyes then, pain clouding his features. "She used me. Emma was the girl's name. She came to me, told me she wanted to run away from the other Amazons and asked for my help. She was lying. She was going to kill me."

I look at the ground. "I'm sorry, Dean. If it makes you feel any better, she might not have wanted to hurt you. It's just how she was raised to think. When something is branded not only into your body but your mind as well, it's hard to break away from it." I pause, still staring at my feet. "I was born the same night Lydia was. It's strange, being able to remember everything so clearly, even as an infant."

His gun is still pointed at me.

"Please, Dean. I won't hurt you. Please."

"Why should I trust you?" He demands.

I can feel the fear coursing through my body. It's not Dean that I was afraid of. It's what would happen to Sam if I was gone. "Because I can save you brother, Dean."

Once we were on the road again, I explained the dreams that I had to Dean.

"Can all of you do that?" He asks.

I shake my head. "No. It's... always been just me."

His brows furrows and he looks deep in thought. "How long has it been happening?"

"As long as I can remember."

He glances over at me before turning back to the road. "When were you born?"

"Thirty-one years ago, roughly. Why?"

He pulls over at a rest stop and parks the car, looking at me. "You said you remember everything from your infancy?"

I nod, wondering what he might be thinking.

"Do you remember a man with yellow eyes?"

That sentence sends a sharp chill down my spine. I shiver. "Yes... He was in my room one night. I don't remember exactly why, but I do remember that he wasn't supposed to be there."

"Do you remember the date?"

I try to think back. I see my room, the crib that I'm in, the man with the yellows eyes standing above me. I notice a calendar in the background.

"I believe it was around November second or third? Early November. Why are you asking me this, Dean?"

"You're one of the 'special children' that the demon Azazel made. What I don't understand is why you weren't made to fight the rest of the children like Sam was."

"H-he was a demon?" I stutter out. "That explains why my mother..."

"Why your mother what?"

I turn my back to him, pulling up my shirt to my neck. "Do you see them?"

I feel his fingers touch my back. "Demon wardings?"

I nod.

"Are those tattooed?" He sounds astonished.

"Yes, with white ink."

"He was never able to find you."


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Sam's POV

When I wake again I'm in my room at the bunker. As I blink, adjusting my sight to the bright lamp by my bedside, memories flood my mind. My vision.

"_You can't take this from me." Allison whispers. The gravel at the crossroads crunches under the heels of the demon in front of her._

_The demon's dark red lips pull into a sinister grin. "The little monster who found love. That would make a lovely children's book."_

"_Please."_

_The smile turns into a sneer. "'Please, don't take him away. Please help me. Please make me stronger. Please save my loved one. Please make me rich. Please, please, please. That's all I ever hear."_

_Allison looks up from the ground. "It's your job."_

"_Would you like to talk about jobs?"_

_A tear slips down Allison's face. "I'm not here to listen to your petty sarcasm. I'm here to make a deal."_

I walk out of my room, shaking my head. She _will_ explain. I pad barefoot down the hall, turning to step into the main room. I hear Dean and Allison talking quietly. They're sitting across from each other at the table, Allison's eyes locked on it's wood surface.

"...have to tell him. Don't you think he deserves to know?"

A small sigh leaves her chest. "He does deserve it. But Dean, he doesn't _need_ to know. Please. He'll... He'll hate me."

Dean touches his fingertips to the top of her small ivory hand. "I don't hate you."

She smiles, only a little. "You did."

I step out as Dean starts to speak, yawning and stretching my arms.

"That's before I knew–" He turns quickly, his expression changing to one of concern. "How ya feelin'?"

I shrug my shoulders and flip a chair to face me, sitting with my legs on either side. "Fine now. Must have just been sick or something. How long was I out?"

Allison stares at the table again, mumbling quietly in response. "Two days."

"_Two days?_" I ask incredulously. "So today is..."

"Friday."

I nod, making some sense of it. Though my visions had never had me out for _days_.

Allison and Dean share a meaningful glance, one that I don't think I was supposed to see.

"So what's for breakfast?" I wonder.

Dean raises his eyebrow a little, throwing his hands up. "I can make burgers."

Allison laughs, shaking her head. "Since I'm only here for a few days, I'll make you two a real breakfast. I assume you have what I need?"

Dean nods. "I usually use bacon for burgers." He grins and points toward the kitchen. "You know the way, right?"

She smiles. "Yeah, I'm getting the hang of it." After she wanders toward the kitchen, Deans turns to face me.

"What the hell happened to you, Sam?"

I shake my head. "I don't know, Dean. It was like... It was like before."

His hands are fidgeting in his lap. "That's what I was afraid of." He pauses, then looks up at me with a brooding expression. "What did you see?"

I scoff, the corner of my mouth turning up into an unbelieving smile. Running my hand through my hair, I open my mouth and then close it, no sound coming out.

"She was making a deal." I say finally.

Dean's eyes close slowly and leans back in his chair, a disgruntled noise leaving his throat.

"What are you keeping from me, Dean?"

He shakes his head at me. "I told her I wouldn't."

I laugh. "Do you realize that keeping secrets is part of the reason we're so messed up? How many times has keeping something to ourselves been a _good_ thing? The entire year I went without a soul? And what about, I don't know, Gadreel?"

Dean stands up, looking at me with anger in his eyes. "This isn't my secret to tell."

After over an hour of tension and research, Allison calls out to us. "Food's done, boys!"

She comes from the kitchen balancing three plates in her hands. She sets them on the table, goes quickly back to the kitchen, and returns with drinks and utensils.

"You're sure good with your hands." Dean says with a wink.

She giggles. "Every hunter has a past, right? Believe it or not, I used to be a waitress."

We turn our attention to the heaping plates in front of us. Fried eggs, slices of bacon, links of sausage, biscuits with gravy, fried potatoes and sliced ham all with sprinkles of pepper on top. I look up from the plate and raise an eyebrow at her. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"

Her grin warms me. "I taught myself, I suppose. Garth and me mostly had to fend for ourselves, so I guess it was pretty much just me adapting to a harsh environment."

"We raised ourselves too, and all I could ever make was cereal and Spaghetti-O's." He teases, stuffing his face full of biscuit.

This elicits a tinkling laugh from Allison. "Well maybe it's just because I'm a girl."

I stare at her, trying my best to figure out the small girl sitting across the table. "Or maybe you're smarter than you give yourself credit for." 

* * *

**I'm _so so so_ sorry it's taken dreadfully long to update. With a new baby it's hard to get anything done anymore! I'll keep on my toes and try my best! Some of those lovely reviews my help motivate me! You guys ROCK!**


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